


Halloween

by rippergiles



Series: Our Time [7]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: 1997. It was supposed to be a slow night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The episode “Halloween” was written by Carl Ellsworth. This section is primarily based on scenes from that episode in a narrative format, in an attempt to tell Rupert and Ethan’s whole story.
> 
> I have reformatted this work since publishing it, so some previous comments may not match up with the chapter they were left on. My apologies for any confusion.

_It all crept up on you; in the night it got you_  
 _And plagued your mind, it plagues your mind_  
 _Every day that passes faster than the last did_  
 _And you'll be old, soon you'll be old_  
  
_Do you like the person you’ve become?_   
**-Weight of Living Pt. II, Bastille**

  
  
  
  
Ethan knew Rupert was in town, somewhere, but that’s all he’d been able to dig up.

He’d found himself in California on a freelance job, and simply couldn’t resist the draw of a rumoured supernatural hotspot. The air was full of otherworldly energy, presumably helped along by the high concentration of demons, even above-ground. He’d been approached by what he assumed was a vampire on his first night in town, quickly dispatching it by hurling a ball of flames into its chest. As he began to set up shop the next day, Ethan could taste the potential here. Even if he didn’t find Rupert, there was fun to be had in Sunnydale.  
  
He finished setting up the altar in his back room, kissing both of Janus’ faces before wheeling out a newly-enchanted rack of costumes to a collection of young people. _God bless the procrastinators_. A blonde teenager caught his eye as he emerged; she was gazing longingly at a red and pink period-style gown, a particular beauty amongst the mostly mediocre off-brand costumes he’d amassed. She reached to touch it.  
  
“Please, let me,” he suggested, affecting a warm smile after his sudden appearance seemed to have spooked the girl. Two others looked on, clearly waiting for the blonde to lead.  
  
Her eyes were wide. “It’s--”  
  
“Magnificent, I know.” He lifted the dress off of the display and held it to the girl’s shoulders. Ethan was directly behind her, but from the way she looked at herself in the mirror he could tell it was if he didn’t exist. _Excellent_.  
  
“My, meet the hidden princess,” he said softly in her ear. “I think we’ve made a match, don’t you?”  
  
The girl’s eyebrows knitted together as she turned around and tried to hand him the dress. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, “there’s no way I can afford this.”  
  
Of course, his goal here wasn’t to make money, and even if it was, the dress wasn’t that expensive. It would even be worth taking a loss for the delight that was to come.  
  
“Nonsense,” he insisted. “I feel quite moved to make you a deal you can’t refuse.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
Giles had hoped to be training with Buffy tonight, but that weasel Snyder had forced her and the rest of the students into chaperoning the trick-or-treaters. Perhaps it was from being aware of the truth of the supernatural from such a young age, but he had never seen the appeal of dressing up like monsters and creatures of the night. Still, it provided a rare peaceful evening for Watchers and Slayers, since the real monsters tended to avoid all the spectacle.  
  
She’d promised they’d be back by 6 o’clock, but Rupert knew better- after an evening with children, Buffy, Willow, and Xander wouldn’t be jumping to do more Hellmouth work. If they didn’t go to the Bronze to unwind, they would probably go home to enjoy the sweets they’d skimmed from their charges’ bounties.

So here he was, alone, again. It’s not that he terribly minded- teenagers could be exhausting, and he’d been meaning to reorganise his card catalogue anyway. But being alone by choice is in general far preferable to feeling as though you’re alone because everyone you care about has better things to do.  
  
_Ms. Calendar said you were a babe_ , Buffy’s voice came floating back to him. He smiled, wondering what Ms. Calendar was doing for Halloween. They’d attempted to have something of a date at the football game, but being surrounded by hundreds of loud teenagers hadn’t been Rupert’s idea of romantic, even before Willow and Xander ignored all social contracts and joined them. _It’s not as if I interrupt their awkward romantic overtures_ , he thought, feeling a bit bitter. Still, the promise of a second date hung in the air, hopefully unencumbered this time by any resurrected football players or their assembled zombie brides. It was this thought that gave him an extra bounce in his step as he moved toward the card catalogue.  



	3. Chapter 3

  
Ethan knelt in front of the altar, lighting the last of the black candles before he performed the catalyst charm to activate his Halloween trickery. Nearly all his costumes had sold out, which meant there were countless children and teenagers out on the streets, ready to enact his chaotic will. He touched the crown atop two marble faces, silently offering the events that were to transpire as tribute to Janus. The hooded robe wasn’t, strictly speaking, necessary, but Ethan had no trouble admitting his penchant for the dramatic. He squeezed his knuckles into his palms and willed his energy into them, hissing when his flesh split and blood began to rise to the surface. Dabbing his finger in his blood, Ethan drew sigils on his wrists and face, chanting as he did so.  
  
“The world that denies thee, thou inhabit,” he recited, closing his eyes and inhaling the smells of burning herbs floating around the shop’s back room. “The peace that ignores thee, thou corrupt.”  
  
The statue’s peaceful, feminine face began to glow, and Ethan could see the energy began to move.  
  
“Chaos,” he intoned, “As ever, I am your faithful, degenerate son.”  
  
The word _degenerate_ stirred something in him, chosen carefully for just this purpose. He remembered when a letter had arrived from Rupert’s parents, after the prick from the Watchers Council had returned without Rupert in tow. Rupert had attempted a mere casual glance at it, but Ethan couldn’t help but notice the twitch in his jaw as he tore the pages and threw the scraps in the rubbish bin. When Rupert was next out, Ethan had pieced the note together enough to pick out a few choice phrases.  
_Insist on continuing with this degenerate lifestyle…inheritance withheld…shame on the family name…heartbroken…tradition…_  
  
At the time, Ethan hadn’t been angry with them, but another, more complicated emotion lurked beneath the surface. No one had ever done anything for Ethan without expecting more in return. And yet here Rupert had been, willing to reject everything he’d known on a chance of a new life. A life with him. Ethan supposed that’s why the wounds felt so much deeper when Ripper had finally caved.  
  
It was with Ripper in mind that he gleefully watched the magic light up Janus’ other face- a face of masculine rage, ready to disrupt the night.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Giles picked up a stack of reference cards- he’d decided to make copies of each one concerning different species of demons, and assign them their own drawer for easy access. It’s not as if anyone used the library, let alone the reference materials, for anything except demonic research. Rupert had been surprised by his lack of interaction with students in the months immediately following his hire as librarian, but by now he’d come to expect the mostly quiet days, occasionally interrupted by Buffy or the others ducking in and out in between classes. He started shuffling through the cards, picking out relevant ones and arranging them on the desk. He turned to grab his tea, just in time to see Willow...walking through the library wall. He half-dropped, half-threw his carefully organised cards in the air, in what was frankly an embarrassing reaction for someone who studied violent creatures of darkness and how to fight them.

If the nature of her entrance wasn’t startling enough, Willow’s appearance gave him pause. Her hair wasn’t straight to her shoulders, but pulled up in a sort of spiky bun, with little wisps falling around her face. Her pale midriff was exposed by a crop top, and her pants appeared to be made of black leather. Giles wasn’t in the habit of telling young people what to wear, but this outfit was decidedly outside of anything Willow would normally be seen in.

“Willow- what’s going- are you okay?” he stammered, trying to regain his composure while collecting his scattered reference cards.  
  
“I’m okay, but I’m not sure the same can be said for Xander and Buffy,” Willow began breathlessly. “We were out with the kids, and suddenly everything changed. The kids dressed as demons became actual demons. Xander is some macho military guy, and Buffy- Buffy’s a damsel. And in distress. Angel is with her, so I think they’ll be okay for now, but we need to get to the bottom of this.”  
  
“So everyone became whatever they were masquerading as?” Giles asked, astonished. He glanced at Willow’s wardrobe again. “And...your costume?”  
  
“I’m a ghost!” Willow said, a little defensively.

He considered leaving it, but couldn’t resist. “A ghost of what, exactly?”  
  
Willow shifted her eyes. “ This is nothing. You should have seen what Cordelia was wearing. A unitard. And these little cat things. Ears and stuff.”  
  
Giles had decided to change the subject to spare Willow further embarrassment and sputtering, but now he was not only intrigued, he was a little uneasy. What kind of magic could accomplish this kind of transformation? “Good lord. She became an actual feline?”  
  
Willow frowned for a moment. “No...she was the same old Cordelia, just in a cat costume.”  
  
“She didn’t change?”  
  
“No...hold on. Party Town. She told us she got her outfit from Party Town.”  
  
Following her train of thought, Giles asked “Where did everybody who changed acquire their costumes?”

“We all got ours at this new place,” Willow replied. “Ethan’s.”  
  
A chill went through him at the name. He hadn’t heard it in twenty years, had tried not to think of it either. But there are plenty of Ethans in the world, surely this couldn’t be Ethan Rayne? He should be in London, or Budapest, or some other ancient metropolis full of history and magic to be corrupted by. Not Sunnydale. But then again, Sunnydale had the Hellmouth, and even Giles wasn’t sure what the energy of that alone could achieve, in the wrong hands. He had to be certain. Even if it wasn’t Ethan, the costume shop was as good a place to investigate as any to figure out what was happening.  
  
“Let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

  
Leaning out the back door of the shop, ready to duck back in and deadbolt it if trouble got too close, Ethan was enjoying watching the fruits of his labor pass by. He saw a group of tiny goblins and devils chasing after a middle-aged woman in a bathrobe and hair rollers, their shrieks of delight mixing with hers of terror. Several metres behind them, a man in a clown costume appeared to be compulsively juggling, his red-painted nose wrinkled in concentration as he seemed unable to take his eyes off the balls in the air. Ethan narrowed his eyes as a group of adults moved in formation across the street, wearing mostly black and looking just a bit too pale. He could almost smell their desperate hunger and adrenaline. _Looks like the regular creepies and crawlies are taking advantage of the chaos, too_.  
  
A soft bell tinkling made him jump as the front door to his shop opened. He pulled the back door shut quietly, ducking into the shadows behind a clothing rack and peering out to see who had ignored the CLOSED sign.  
  
“Hello?” A hesitant voice, with a crisp English accent.  
  
Ethan’s skin prickled, barely having time to anticipate if it could be Rupert before there he was, followed by a redheaded youth in a skimpy outfit. The girl’s wardrobe reminded him of the sort of things Dee used to wear. Ethan raised his eyebrows. _Surely_ _you’re_ _not_ _dating_ _that_ _young,_ _Ripper_.  
  
Rupert was drawing closer, entering the back room as Ethan retreated further into his hiding spot. The layers of tweed obscured it a bit, but Ethan found himself staring at those same broad shoulders, same tall, solid frame. Probing the air with his magic, he could feel Rupert’s as he came closer still. The charged energy was still there, not active, like it had once been, but not scattered and agitated, like it had been been when everything fell apart. It felt purposefully contained, dormant, and Ethan suspected it had laid unused for years. If it hadn’t, he believed Rupert would be able to sense _him_ too.  
  
“Giles,” The girl touched Rupert’s arm as they passed through the doorway to the back room, pointing out the altar, low on the ground. Rupert’s brow furrowed, intrigued; Ethan had forgotten what it looked like when he did that. “Giles” now, was it?  
  
“That’s Janus,” Rupert explained, “a Roman mystical god.”  
  
Ethan thought he heard an edge in Rupert’s voice as he spoke about Janus. He hadn’t forgotten. Perhaps the girl was Rupert’s Slayer? She seemed a little timid to be a master hunter of all things evil, but what did he know?  
  
“What does it mean?” the girl asked.  
  
Ethan smirked.


	6. Chapter 6

  
_It means he was here,_ Rupert thought. _It means things I thought I’d left behind long ago have finally caught up to me_.  
  
“Primarily, it represents the division of self,” Giles said slowly, forcefully reminded of his own divided psyche. “Male and female,” he continued. He’d been on the straight and narrow Watcher path for years, especially since getting assigned to Buffy. These kids depended on him. “Light and dark…” But he couldn’t ignore the rumbling memories of someone else buried deep within him, not Giles, not even Rupert.  
  
“Chunky or creamy,” a voice deadpanned, as its owner stepped out from the shadows. “No, sorry, that’s peanut butter.”

Rupert tried to remain stoic, rather than the several different reactions battling for dominance in his head. He turned to the other man, unable to delay the confirmation any longer, and stared at his former...what? The years had been kind to Ethan, though which parts of that could be contributed to nature and which to spellwork, Giles couldn’t say. Ethan was still slender, but not quite the level of thinness Rupert remembered once being afraid of accidentally snapping like a twig. His silk shirt was open a few buttons at the collar, and his dark eyes glittered mischievously. Rupert had seen that look many times, but so long ago. They had both been in on the game then.  
  
“Willow, get out of here now,” Giles said sharply, snapping back to reality but not taking his eyes off of Ethan. Willow protested briefly but then darted back out to the front of the shop. He found himself grateful that she was not as stubborn as Buffy about listening to him. He didn’t know if Willow was in real danger from Ethan, but he knew he didn’t want to have this conversation in front of a sixteen-year-old. Silence hung in the air as he and Ethan stared each other down appraisingly.  
  
“Hello, Ethan,” he greeted him, cautiously. Ethan didn’t seem particularly upset, or even the least bit surprised, to see him.

“Hello Ripper,” Ethan replied with a smirk, his amusement suggesting a punchline for a joke only he knew. Rupert stiffened at his old nickname, almost breaking eye contact when he simultaneously felt a twinge of shame in his stomach, and a flicker of something else a bit lower. Being called Ripper forced memories to come flooding back, memories that weren’t entirely convenient, considering what he had come here to accomplish.  
  
“What, no hug?” Ethan continued, “Aren’t you pleased to see your old mate?”  
  
If it weren’t for the circumstances and Ethan likely being behind them, Giles might have been. Sure, they had parted on bad terms, but time softens anger and heals wounds like nothing else. Still, he had to help Buffy and the others before they got irreparably harmed, and through Ethan was the way to do that.  
  
“I’m surprised I didn’t guess it was you. This Halloween stunt stinks of Ethan Rayne.” His danger had always been his creativity and lack of regard for others. 

Ethan’s sinister smile became even more pronounced. “It does, doesn’t it? Not to blow my own horn, but it’s genius. The very embodiment of ‘be careful what you wish for’.”  
  
Rupert felt his anger rising. The Ethan he’d known had little regard for others who stood in his way, but had never been in the habit of playing with people’s lives for mere entertainment.  
  
“It’s sick. And brutal. It harms the innocent,” he began through clenched teeth.

“Oh, and we all know that you are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good, _Rupert_ ,” Ethan said with a sneer. Two images flashed in Rupert’s mind nearly simultaneously. The first of him casting a spell at Randall, eyes wild and weeping as his friend was torn apart. The second...his pants pooled around his ankles, fingernails dug into Ethan’s hips, drawing blood as he pulled Ethan toward him. He wondered which one Ethan was thinking of as he continued, “This is quite an act you've got going here, old man.”  
  
“It’s no act,” Giles replied, hoping he sounded convincing. “It’s who I am.”  
  
“It's _who you are_?” Ethan scoffed. “The _Watcher_? Sniveling tweed-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin? I think not. I know who you are, Rupert,” he jeered, venom again dripping off the way he said Giles’ first name, “and I know what you're capable of.”  
  
He knew Ethan was thinking of Eyghon, of Randall, this time. He wondered if Ethan was haunted, as Rupert had been all these years. But it hadn’t been Ethan that killed Randall, had it?

Rupert could almost see the gears clicking into place as Ethan’s predatory smirk returned. “But _they_ don't, do they? They have no idea where you come from.”  
  
_They can’t_ , Giles thought. He had to remain respectable, impenetrable, not only for his own dignity, but for the safety of the teenagers he’d somehow found himself guarding. He didn’t want to imagine any of their faces after finding out he’d broken their cardinal rule and killed a human. Not just a human, a friend. He tried to shake off the thought and refocus on why he was here.  
  
“Break the spell, Ethan. Then leave this place and never come back.”

Ethan mocked being affronted. “Why should I? What do I get in the bargain?”  
  
Giles steadied his stance, hoping he looked braver than he felt. “You get to live.”  
  
Ethan rolled his eyes. So much for being intimidating. Rupert realised with a pang he would have to do more than threaten, as Ethan simpered, “Oooh, you’re scaring--”  
  
Rupert had crossed the space between him, pulled back his fist, and punched Ethan in the gut. There was so much unsaid in that sudden contact. Ethan doubled over, out of breath, but still managing ragged laughter. His anger surged as he brought his elbow down between Ethan’s shoulder blades. Ethan fell to the ground, and Rupert winced as he heard Ethan’s face smack the hard floor.  
  
“And you said Ripper was long gone,” Ethan rasped, raising his head.  
  
Rupert saw that his face was bleeding, and had a moment of regret before repeating himself. “How do I stop the spell?”  
  
“Say pretty ple-” Ethan began, but was cut off by a well-aimed kick to his ribs. Rupert honestly hoped he wasn’t causing any permanent damage, but a small voice in the back of his head snidely suggested that this violence was about far more than only righting the costume confusion. Where Ethan had apparently turned his bitterness into more creative and sinister tributes to chaos, Rupert had turned his pain inward, bottling up all his resentment for decades. Ethan’s reappearance represented everything Rupert had avoided confronting since he returned to the Watchers, and this is how he was dealing with it. His anger hadn’t had an outlet like this in a long time, and he found it difficult to stop.  
  
Ethan coughed, more blood coming out of his mouth, then wheezed, “Janus. Break the statue.”  
  
Giles quickly strode toward the altar, picking up the two-faced bust. He raised it over his head and threw it against a wall, watching it shatter. He let out a long breath, hoping the statue’s demise achieved what it needed to, then turned around to Ethan. Where Ethan had been on the floor, there were just a few drops of red, the only evidence of what had taken place.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Ethan struggled with the motel room lock, nearly falling in when the door finally gave way. The woman at the front desk had barely taken a second glance at his bloody mouth and bruised body before exchanging a key for his cash. That was one thing Ethan liked about these seedier places; they lacked the creature comforts, but no one asked questions.  
  
He slung his small suitcase on the bed, having only had time to grab what he had already packed as he had dashed from the shop, unsure if Rupert would be on his heels. He’d limped past groups of confused trick-or-treaters returned to their true forms, reflecting that for them, nothing truly bad seemed to have happened. If anything, this would be the Halloween to which all others compared-- everything after this may be simply lackluster. The thought gave him a tired satisfaction as he silently declared the spell not a total loss. He’d return and pack up what was left in the shop after he’d had something that passed for a night’s rest.  
  
Crossing to the bathroom sink, he turned on the tap and let it run for a few moments to warm up. He stripped down, observing his body in the mirror. He gingerly prodded the nasty mark made by Rupert’s boot on his ribs, wincing as the pain shot through to his spine. Cracked, he suspected. Unable to bend without considerable pain, Ethan struggled to fill his mouth with water to rinse, the sloshing liquid stinging the tender lacerations on his gums. He spat, the pink water swirling down the drain.  
  
As he applied the wet washcloth to his wounds, he couldn’t help but remember the first time Ripper had left him in unpleasant pain. Or rather, Eyghon in Ripper’s body had. At least that time Ethan could cling to the fact that Rupert hadn’t been in control, hadn’t meant to hurt him. And had been there to clean him up afterward. That was not the case tonight. He had felt sparks, repressed magic leaking out with every forceful punch, every angry kick. Ethan wondered how close Rupert had been to completely losing control, giving himself over to the magic and the rage again.  
  
Splaying his fingers over his aching rib, he murmured words of healing and felt heat soak into his ribcage. Taking a deep breath to check that he could, he found the pain considerably dulled. He began to repeat the process over the rest of his body, unable to stop his mind from replaying every blow.


	8. Chapter 8

Giles sat at his desk, stirring his tea. He’d had a restless night, flashes of himself and Ethan interrupting his sleep. He’d finally given up and come downstairs, a heavy weight of guilt in his stomach. He had no qualms about doing what needed to be done, especially when it came to protecting Buffy, but he regretted having to pulverise Ethan to do it. Even when they’d fallen out years ago, Rupert had never been that violent. Toward Ethan, anyway- he’d punched out plenty of people for as little as a crude comment thrown their way, once upon a time. He downed the last of his tea and kicked off his slippers. He wasn’t sure if Ethan would still be around, but if he was, maybe they could talk, come to some sort of resolution, even a precarious one.  
  
A few minutes later, Rupert heard the tinkling of the bell as he opened the front door to the shop again. He immediately knew the trip had been in vain- most of the costumes and props had been packed up and taken, all that seemed to remain was empty racks and parts of mannequins. Clearly Ethan hadn’t wasted any time in leaving. Giles couldn’t blame him- that’s exactly what he’d told him (well, threatened him) to do. But there had been a tiny part of him that had hoped Ethan was as obstinate as ever and hadn’t listened. He took a few steps into the store, glancing around at the mess. He spotted something on top of a box in the middle of the room, clearly meant to be seen. He stepped toward it and picked up the carefully folded cardstock, knowing as soon as he read it that he was the intended recipient.  
  
_Be seeing you_.


End file.
